Sensory Overload
by Bologna121
Summary: Tony gives Peter sensory overload in the best way.
1. Sight

So the saying goes: the eyes are the window to the soul. Peter Parker had always thought that phrase made perfect sense, seeing as how he himself had always been really easy to read. Everything you needed to know about how Peter was feeling at any given moment could be gathered from his facial expressions. And what little he did manage conceal always showed up in his eyes.

As with most things, however, this phrase did not apply to Tony Stark.

For all of the bravado, swagger, and rock-star charisma Anthony Edward Stark possessed, the man was _horrible _at expressing himself and at engaging in genuine interactions with people he was not already familiar with.

He wasn't cold, per say. But there was a constant wall around him. The eyes may be the window to the soul, but Tony had obviously invested in thick curtains. Very stylish, expensive, custom-made curtains. Usually purple, blue or pink. Depending on the day and his mood.

In the two years that he had known Tony, Peter had the opportunity (and sometimes misfortune) of seeing how his mentor interacted with people he was not close with. That list was rather long, and essentially included anyone who was not Pepper, Rhodey, Peter, Happy, or an Avenger (and even that group fluctuated from month to month). He'd seen how his mentor handled meetings with government officials, SHIELD Agents, Stark Industry employees and baristas-with an air of professional disinterest, good-natured joking, and limited eye contact.

Tony hardly ever looked people in the eye when they were talking to him- always choosing instead to fiddle with his SI Watch, his phone, or….well literally anything he could get his hands on because the man could never sit still. He multi-tasked when being briefed by his team, splitting his attention between multiple conversations at once. Peter had even seen how Tony watched TV- which was not at all. He listened to movies and shows rather than watching them all the way through. Which drove Peter crazy the few times he'd tried to have Star Wars movie nights.

"_TONY_! You're missing everything! You have to see this- look at how they use the light sab-ugh, forget it."

The tinted glasses were always on. If they weren't already on his face when he encountered strangers, he'd shove them on at the first opportunity. Always with a movie star flick of his wrist into his pocket and back to his face.

They were meant to guard him. To cover. Peter could see the intention- Tony could protect his information, his feelings, and his fears (yes, even Iron Man had them) as long as he kept the glasses on.

So Peter always knew Tony _really meant business_ when he whipped off those shades.

Tony would always remove them right before a mission. He'd walk briskly and purposefully down to his lab to hastily scroll through his many megatron- looking computer screens, and with a swipe of his hand the glasses would be tucked away carelessly into his pocket.

Such important matters (like the impending doom of the universe) required Tony's full, unfiltered and uncolored attention.

He'd also noticed that Tony had acquired the habit of taking off his shades immediately whenever he met with Aunt May. Peter wasn't supposed to have overheard, but his super-hearing had made him privy to a conversation the two adults had a few months after Homecoming. May had told Tony, loudly and brashly as was her way, that no matter how many fancy suits and gadgets he fashioned for Peter she still couldn't find it in her to trust him.

"This is what it comes down to- I can't read you, Stark. And until I can, I can't entirely trust you. Not with Peter. Not with my kid."

Since then, Peter had never seen Tony wear his glasses for longer than a few seconds around May. When she spoke, he gave her his full attention. And May had started to relax a bit with him, even if she didn't realize she was doing so.

A few weeks after that, Peter was surprised to notice something else: Mr. Stark never kept the shades on when they were alone together.

Tinkering together in the lab, laughing over another one of DUM-E's failed cooking experiments, riding silently in the backseat of Happy's car, Tony's eyes remained unguarded. No curtains.

After every mission, Tony whipped off his rose colored glasses to peer at Peter and pore over his form in search of injuries he silently prayed he would not find.

Every time Peter tried to lie about his school grades or the details of a solo mission (which eventually he stopped doing because damn he was horrible at it), Tony would narrow his eyes at him. The shrewdness of the look always made Peter feel simultaneously cagey and cared for.

Peter's collection of nerdy science t-shirts had grown, because he liked the amused eye roll Tony would give him each time he showed up with a new one.

Every time Peter challenged Tony on one of his older engineering formulas ("you've got some nerve kid, trying to disprove me in my own home. You might be on to something though…") the man's eyes would light up with disbelief and a little bit of what Peter thought was pride.

And sometimes, when he though Peter wasn't looking, Tony would just look at him. Peter had tried to catch it, tried to identify it. The look was somewhere between fondness, exasperation, curiosity and…

Something else he couldn't quite name. But God did it remind him of Uncle Ben. And that made him a little sad, a little hurt, but it also made him feel warm and…. ok. It make his cheeks twitch into a smile and it made his fingers restless, wanting to grasp at the feeling under Tony's gaze but knowing the man would never say anything about it or want it acknowledged. It made him giddily grateful to have been internet-stalked on Youtube, and proud that Tony had been impressed enough to seek him out. It made him hopeful that he'd get to spend time with his mentor before whatever was about to happen to their universe happened….

Tony always gave Peter sensory overload when he looked at him. Because Tony only really looked at things that were important to him.


	2. Sound

Tony Stark was loud.

Not obnoxiously so- even as prone to theatrics as he was, the man rarely yelled or shouted. But when Tony walked into the room you could always hear him before you saw him. The smooth talking, the deflective one-liners, the never-ending banter with Rhodey or Happy.

Peter had always admired the strength and authority behind his favorite superhero's voice. Always cocksure and confident, whether ordering exotic wines in Italian or talking down government officials. Tony talked, people listened.

Peter was no exception.

He felt like he'd spent his entire life listening to Tony in one way or another.

In the few months after he'd moved in with Aunt May and Uncle Ben, back when he'd still been shy around them and made himself scarce out of fear of bothering them too much, Tony's voice had been the only thing to coax him out of his room. Uncle Ben would turn up the TV volume whenever there was a Stark Industries press conference, face passive but eyes sparkling as he watched little Peter slowly pad into the living room and crawl onto the sofa so he could watch Tony snark his way through the journalists' questions.

After the Homecoming fiasco, Tony had started inviting Peter over for bi-weekly lab sessions. Lab Tony was Peter's favorite Tony. The man talked constantly, either ranting to Peter about the minor inconveniences of his day ("Why is the ice cream machine always broken when I get there? I'm taking this as sign. I'm officially swearing off of dairy."), or fake- arguing with Pepper over the phone just to rile her up.

Peter had even had the privilege of hearing Tony laugh on more than one occasion, a rare feat after the events in Siberia. Sometimes the laughter was directed at him after a particularly clever joke, giving Peter a feeling of pride and accomplishment. Honestly, Tony's laugh was more like a giggle. But Peter never told him that because 1.) Mr. Stark might chuck something at him and 2.) He didn't want Tony to get self-conscious and stop laughing around him. He liked the sound too much.

Tony would call him during patrols occasionally (overriding Peter's annoyed declines and pushing his call through) to inquire about things like "why the hell are you in the Bronx?" and "must you insist on throwing yourself in front of so many guns?"

One time, during a particularly grueling mission, he even swore he could hear Tony in his head. Peter called it a "connection". Tony had called it a concussion.  
"Kid. Sit up. I am not talking to you in your head. It's through the sui- Jesus how hard did you hit your hea-NO I'm not a ghost-that's it I'm calling medical."

Concussed or not, Peter always knew Tony's voice when he heard it.

Not for the first time, Peter woke up gasping and drenched in sweat.

Struggling to steady his breathing, he clawed at his shirt to unstick it from his skin and toss it over the side of his bed. He could vaguely make out the sound of someone keening, as if in pain. It took him a few minutes to realize that the noises were coming from him.

Peter rarely remembered his dreams, but his nightmares were always vivid.

He couldn't focus, his head was all over the place and his thoughts were scattered as he reached for his phone. The night air coming through his open window was helping some, but the New York noises were not. The sirens from a distant firetruck sounded ominous, leaving a ringing in his ears long after they stopped. He could hear cabs honking from blocks away. There was a couple arguing a few doors down, their firm tones sounding like angry shrieks in his ears…

"This better be good, kid."

The smooth voice on the other end of the line startled him. In his haste to shake off the feeling of terror his nightmare had left him with, he hadn't even realized he'd been dialing. He had thumbed the numbers as if on auto pilot.

"Kid. You there? Is this a butt dial? I'm begging you, just let me give you a Stark phone."

Peter blinked dazedly, letting out a shaky breath.

"Peter." There was concern underneath the irritation.

"T-Tony." He didn't realize how wrecked his voice sounded. Weak and worn, likely from the screaming that had eventually startled him awake.

"Yep. The one and only." Tony's voice, usually so sure, sounded slightly suspicious. "You good? Are you patrolling? I thought we agreed on the 1am curfew."

Peter let out a rattling sigh, wiping his hand across his face and grimacing when he realized there were tears there.

"Alright, you're starting to worry me a little." He could hear the sound of Tony rolling a chair, likely over to one of his smart screens so he could get a read on where Peter was. A few beats went by, and  
Tony must have seen that Peter was not in his suit and therefore couldn't be tracked so he let out a sigh and shifted gears.

"Hey. What's up kiddo?"

"C-can. Can you just…" Peter hated how small he sounded in the moment. He felt as if he was drowning in the noises around him. But a part of him, the part that had dialed Tony's private number without thinking, knew this was the only thing that would help.

"Tell me what you need." Tony said simply, taking cues from Peter's soft voice and softening his own in response.

" Can you just….talk?"

There was silence on the other line, and Peter started to worry that Mr. Stark had hung up on him. But then he heard his mentor clear his throat and settle into his chair.

"Ok. Have I told you about the time Rhodey almost got hitched in Vegas? Settle in, this is a wild one…"  
Peter grinned and flopped back against his pillow, trying to focus his senses so that all he could hear was the sound of Tony's voice. He was out like a light in the span of minutes.

"Goodnight Peter. I….I'll come see you tomorrow."

Click.


	3. Taste

If Tony and Peter had a love language, it was food.

It was their fondest and most frequent form of communication. Peter was a teenage boy and Tony Stark was….Tony Stark. Meaning neither was ever inclined to openly share emotions and tell each other how they felt from moment to moment.

"I'm proud of you" was usually gruffly said while shoving a box of pizza under Peter's nose.

"I'm sorry I did the thing you told me not to and almost got hurt doing the thing" was implied by handing Tony a freshly made Delmar's sandwich right after school.

"You look like shit" was communicated through coffee cups filled to the brim with their favorite flavors.

And "You're annoying but I want to keep you alive" was the most commonly expressed emotion.

Peter would slide cartons of takeout out across the workbench during lab sessions that ran a bit late into the evening, knowing Tony wouldn't even realize he hadn't eaten in hours. Or Peter would replace some of Tony's tools with fresh fruit ("Can't have you dying of scurvy, Mr. Stark. No, I don't know what scurvy is. But Ms. Potts made it sound really serious!")

Tony, on his part, kept hordes of food stashed in every kitchen of the Avengers facility, as Peter often wandered around dramatically from floor to floor in search of food whenever he would visit. As a growing teenage boy with enhanced metabolism, Spiderman seemed to literally need to eat something every hour, on the hour.

Peter could and would eat just about anything, which never ceased to amaze and disgust Tony ("One day, kid, these calories are going to catch up to you. God I hope I'm around to see that"). But through some trial and error Tony figured out which foods were a hit and which were a miss. Tony discovered the kid loved Nutella, wasn't big on carrots, abhorred chopped salads ("You mean people literally pay extra money to have someone chop what is already a mediocre meal into tinier, even more mediocre pieces?") and could inhale a Burger King cheeseburger at alarming rates just like his dear old….mentor.

Peter's favorite treat? Ice cream. Tony had sworn off dairy, but it was his favorite (and easiest) way to appease Peter when the kid wanted to hang out. Tony never minded indulging him, even if he himself didn't eat any ice cream. Haagen Dazs, Baskin Robbins, Van Leeuwen's, McDonalds ("C'mon kid. We can do better than this- I'm literally a billionaire") – they didn't discriminate. Although, as with all foods, Peter had strong opinions about flavors. Praline was the devil's work. Strawberry was a summer classic. Vanilla was for squares (but sometimes he'd crave it) and rocky road reigned supreme.

Ice cream runs became their favorite go-to activity whenever Pepper would throw them out of the lab declaring they needed fresh air. In the Spring following Homecoming, once the city had warmed up a bit and they no longer needed coats to go outside, Tony and Peter would venture out (Happy trailing them, of course) on a mission to find Peter's next favorite flavor. They'd sit in content silence, Peter happily and messily enjoying his cone as he scrolled through his social media, while Tony rolled his eyes and threw napkins at him.

Sometimes, Peter would catch Tony with a bliss-ed out look on his face. His whole body would relax and the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly as he closed his eyes. It was as though his favorite thing in the world was to sit beside Peter in the sun, eating ice cream.

The moment never lasted long because Tony always managed to catch him trying to sneak a pic.

_(Mr. Stark) _Emergency situation. Do you copy

_(Mr. Parker)_ Spiderman can be there in 15 tops

Suit's in my bag

You have to come over here & taste me.

I'm delicious

Sorry sir…but huh?

...did Colonel Rhodes take your phone again?

Oh, I realized what that sounded like the min I sent it

Just come over my place after school

Something big is happening

Wow this is all coming out so wrong

…So there's no emergency.

I mean there is

just not an urgent one

Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?

Yea man, I'm taking a physics exam

You were going to leave in the middle of an exam?

Shame on you.

We'll talk about this behavior when you get here

Wooow ok.

You should delete those texts now before someone calls the cops on me

Already done.

An hour and a half later, Peter stepped out of the elevator onto one of Tony's personal floors with a cautious frown that only deepened when he saw Tony in the kitchen. He'd never seen the billionaire this excited. The man was practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, clasping his hands and rubbing them together in anticipation.

Peter stepped toward him ….and blinked when he realized what Tony was standing next to.

"Mr. Stark, please tell me I did not run all the way over here so you could show me a new freezer." He was only partially kidding, his genuine curiosity taking all the bite out of his words.

"Take a look inside, Mr. Parker. And prepare to be amazed."

After cracking the door to the freezer open, Peter scoffed. "This is all….ice cream." He turned to Tony , face contorting in confusion at Tony's borderline manic grin. "I mean, yay cool! But are you feeling ok? Have you slept?"

Tony waved his hand in dismissal, signaling to Peter that no, he had not slept, but that was beside the point.

"Not just any ice cream. _Look at the flavor_."

Peter went back to the freezer and peered more closely at the cartons. Then he turned back to Tony with comically widened eyes.

_"No freaking way." _

Tony was right. He did taste amazing. Or at least Stark Raving Hazelnut did.

Together they'd made their way through 3 bins (for research purposes, of course. And one was gluten free so they needed to see how it competed).

Peter, with a dramatic sigh, made to open a 4th before falling over in fake exhaustion.

Tony prodded his form with a spoon. "Alright kid, what's the verdict?" The man raised his eyebrows in anticipation, leaning against one of the cabinets where he and Peter sat on the floor together.

"Hmm…" Peter rolled over on his back, hands across his chest and staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Tony scoffed, tapping his fingers against the tiled floor in mock impatience.

"The verdict, the verdict…well it was dense. Rich. _Really _rich. Sweet, but not overwhelmingly so."

Tony nodded in total agreement at his assessments.

"Super smooth" Peter continued lazily. "Mildly nauseating after too many doses"

He sat up suddenly.

"Actually…._wow_….they _really_ captured the essence of _you_ in an ice cream container. Way to go Ben and Jerry!"

It took Tony half a second to realize what the kid was saying before he chucked his spoon at him. "you think I'm _nauseating? _After all I've done for you, really Parker?"

Peter couldn't answer back for snickering, holding his hands to his sides to stop the stomachache that came from too much ice cream and too much laughter. Tony just rolled his eyes in mock irritation, slight chuckles betraying him as he leaned his head back against the cabinet.

"Whatever. Stark Raving Hazelnut too much for you, Parker?" Tony joked.

Peter, finally having calmed down a bit, yawned and reached again for the next pint of ice cream, lightly punching Tony's shoulder along the way.

"Nah, I think it's perfect. Definitely my new favorite."


	4. Smell

Incredible stamina, crazy reflexes and newfound abs were cool and all. But that spider had done a number on his senses. That included his sense of smell.

Peter's post-bite senses were enhanced enough that, when they rocketed up to 11, the smell of just about _everything _was overwhelming. The school lunch room, the boy's locker room (yuck), the Q Train. Sometimes his nose got so sensitive that even the scent of his own dirty laundry gave him a headache. Aunt May still wasn't exactly thrilled about his new-found identity, but she couldn't get mad at the fact that her nephew was now uncharacteristically diligent about doing their laundry weekly.

But there were positives. He found solace in the "good" scents that made his bad days tolerable.

Good scents like the old car that smelled like May's favorite perfume and the many books she continuously brought home from the library. The "loved-on" couch in their living room that still seemed to hold traces of Uncle Ben's cologne and cigarette's poorly hidden from his exasperated but loving wife. The aroma of Dunkin Donut's coffee that Happy swore up and down he only chugged to keep up with Peter's rapid rambling.

The smell of gentle detergent and blueberries drifting down school hallways relaxed him before he could even see Ned's face. Long, trying decathlon practices were softened by the lingering but subtle scent of Michelle's favorite drug store conditioner. Stiff Stark Industries events were eased when Pepper would place her perfectly manicured hand gently on his shoulder, gifting the soothing fragrance of lavender left by her hand cream.

And workshop days with Tony Stark….

His mentor's scent was an unmistakable, heady cocktail. Some days when Happy dropped him off at the compound, he could tell instantly where Tony was. No need to ask FRIDAY, just follow Tony's scent. The expensive aftershave, the smell of motor oil, a little sweat on days that the man stayed in the lab too long, and occasionally those mints he knew were being chewed in desperation so as to ignore and overpower cravings for former vices.

Of all the five senses, sense of smell was the hardest to cut off. You can't just _not _breathe. So on the overload days, the best he could do was seek out places with low light, little sound, and permeated with scents that were both grounding and calming.

On days that was he at the compound for training or suit upgrades, sometimes that meant sitting in Tony's office (rather than the workshop) to still his overworked nerves. Because the room smelled like Tony and Tony, for all of his sass and faked aloofness, was safe.

That day, however, as he walked into Tony's office with his mentor right behind him, he felt anything but. A scent slammed his already sensitive nose immediately upon opening the door. It was enough to jar him out of his wired state.

Something wasn't right.

"Mr. Stark?" He cast a worried glance over at Tony, and then tensed his stance, ignoring his body screaming at him to sit down and try to relax.

Tony looked up from his StarkPad at him, eyes widening a bit at Peter's concerned tone and then narrowing when he saw the kid basically poised to attack.

"What is it, kid? Spidey senses?"

"Was-was someone…." He inhaled again and wrinkled his nose in slight distaste. "Was someone using your office today?"

Tony quirked his nose, a twitch that was very in character for him when things became more serious than he anticipated. "No…just me this morning- I came in to grab something, and then it's been locked all day."

Still tensed, Peter slowly entered the room and began circling the desk. He took a few more measured whiffs, ignoring Tony's muttered comments about "Lassie" and needing to invest in a real watch dog at some point.

"You gotta give me something to go off of, kid" Tony finally said in exasperation after a few more minutes. He was still standing in the doorway, having been shrilly _ordered_ by Peter not to enter until he knew it was safe (Tony made a mental note to have a long conversation about _that _at a later date). "At least let me call security if you think something is really wrong."

Peter sighed and shrugged, face gradually contorting in perplexity rather than concern.

"_Pete."_

Peter huffed. "Look it just….it just smells like somebody was here. The scent….it just doesn't match up to anyone that would normally be in your office."

"OK, ok I believe you." Tony began stepping towards him. "Describe it to me, I'll text Happy and get security on it. You shouldn't have to deal with this right now, now when you're-ok _hey." _

The kid had held up a hand to silence him, and Tony would have had a lot more to say about _that_ if it weren't for the fact that the kid was now leaning fully towards him, ungelled curls almost getting in his mouth in the process. Peter took a tentative sniff of his mentor's t-shirt and then snapped his head back, face completely twisted in confusion.

"Mr. Stark."

"What?"

"It is yo-_Tony." _

"_What_?" 

"Are you _seriously_ wearing _Axe body spray?" _

Tony blinked once. And then again. Then he began opening and closing his mouth, before muttering some excuse about keeping a can in his desk for emergencies and how you never know when government officials would stop in for witch hunt updates or space gods would just pop by for an overdue visit. But the attempts to explain himself were all in vain. Peter's grin was wide. Too wide for someone who had just been on the verge of an anxiety attack.

There was no way the kid was going to let him live this one down.

Sure enough, by the next day every drawer, closet, and cabinet Tony opened had a can of Axe tucked inside, along with a handwritten note that had become Spidey's signature calling card. Each note detailed an intricate, laughable and totally implausible event that might dictate needing to "freshen up".

"Just in case Ms. Hill calls you while you're in the kitchen and asks you to be her escort for the Miss Congeniality contest she entered last month."

Tony slammed the note down with a half-hearted grown.

"God, I love that kid." He muttered aloud without realizing, not noticing the soft smiles Pepper and Rhodey exchanged behind him.


End file.
